Yes Rangers, There Is a Santa Claus
by SteelCityMagnolia
Summary: Following the Rangers' annual children's Christmas party, mysterious Christmas gifts appear under the tree that have them revisiting their childhoods and sharing memories. Where did the mystery gifts come from? Was it possibly a visit from Santa? One-shot. Story Complete.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Walker, Texas Ranger characters within this story, nor is any ownership implied.**

 _ **Author's Note: I've had this story in the works for quite awhile. I'm proud to offer it as my Christmas gift to my readers who have followed my stories and who have given me so much encouragement. I think this is my favorite story so far - maybe it's because every time I read it, it makes me cry. (Now you know that the writer who loves throwing surprise twists in her stories is a big softy sap at heart - don't tell anyone, okay? Thanks!) Thank you all for being loyal readers, for all the great reviews, and for enjoying my stories. I wish all of you the very happiest of holidays - may you find a bit of magic in the season, too!**_

A wave of calmness had finally settled over CD's Bar and Grill, another successful St. Stephen's Orphanage Christmas party in the books. The children from the orphanage had spent the evening with the Company B rangers making Christmas ornaments, playing games, singing Christmas carols, and awaiting a visit from Santa himself with a special gift for each of them. After a retelling of the Christmas story by Cordell Walker, they were gathered up and returned back to their home, their hearts and stomachs full, with hopes of what the promise of Christmas and the coming new year would bring them.

One group of rangers from Company B remained at CD's, gathered together, talking and laughing. They had exchanged their own gifts and were winding down after the evening's festivities, enjoying each other's company, their own hearts full of the hopes and promises of what the season and new year had in store.

"Where do those kids get all that energy?" Alex Cahill-Walker sighed as she settled into a chair next to her husband, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. "I get exhausted just watching them."

"The fact that Angela's teething and has had us up all night for the last week wouldn't have anything to do with that, would it?" her husband, Cordell Walker teased, squeezing her shoulders in a hug.

"Well, there's a very good chance of that. Just how many teeth do babies get? A hundred?" Alex quipped, drawing laughs from her friends.

"These kids are smart and getting smarter every year," Gage pointed out. "The things they ask Santa for. I never would have dreamed of asking Santa for things like that at Christmas." It was a yearly tradition for Francis Gage to dress up as Santa Claus for the Christmas party, and it was one of his most favorite things to do. He had grown up in circumstances much like the children's – in and out of foster care after his parents died when he was only eight years old - and he had a soft spot for the kids at the orphanage.

"Maybe that's because those things didn't exist when you were a kid," his partner, Sydney Cooke teased as she stole a Christmas cookie off of the plate Gage held. He pulled the plate away from her, but not before she managed to steal a second cookie from the heaping plate.

"I'm just happy we still get to do this. And I think CD would be happy, too. You know, it meant a lot to Big Dog, being able to do something for those kids," James Trivette said, a touch of wistfulness in his voice. CD Parker was a former Texas Ranger and had been the owner of the CD's Bar and Grill. The establishment had been his pride and joy and Trivette still felt his friend's presence very strongly within the building's four walls.

"To CD," Jimmy said, raising his glass.

"Here, here," somebody replied.

"To CD!" the group chimed, raising their glasses and mugs.

Marta, now the manager of CD's, came by to wipe off tables and gather empty plates and glasses.

"I thought you gave all the kids their Christmas presents," she said to Gage, her gaze fixed on the Christmas tree so laden with ornaments that it looked like it could topple over from the weight.

"I did," Gage replied. "That is, Santa did."

"Then what's that pile of gifts back there?" Marta waved the towel in her hand toward the tree. In the back corner behind the tree was a stack of five packages, identically-wrapped in red foil paper and topped with shiny silver bows. "Did you miss some kids?" she asked Gage pointedly.

"I didn't miss any kids," Gage replied defensively. "Santa handed out presents to every kid that was here tonight. Every single kid. There weren't any gifts left when I was done."

Marta shrugged. "You must have missed somebody."

"Maybe they had some kids who were sick and couldn't make it?" Trivette offered.

"If they did, it's not a problem. We can drop their gifts off at St. Stephen's on the way home," Walker added.

"I didn't miss anyone! Those gifts were not there when I was finished handing out all the presents to all the kids. I'm sure of it!" Gage huffed.

Sydney crawled under the tree and started sliding boxes out.

"That's funny," she mused.

"What's funny?" Alex asked.

"I thought we exchanged all our gifts."

"We did," Alex answered.

"Well, this one says it's for Jimmy. And that big box has your name on it. There's one here for Gage. One for Walker. And yeah, this smaller box is mine." Sydney read off the names on each package.

"Where did those come from?" Alex asked, puzzled.

"I don't know," Sydney answered as she started passing out the brightly-wrapped gifts. "Should we open them?"

Trivette held his box up to his ear.

"It's not ticking," he joked. He gave the box a shake.

"Nope, didn't blow up, either. I say we open them. Walker? What do you say?"

Walker looked thoughtful for a moment.

"We were all here all night," he said, "We would have noticed who brought them in. Go ahead. See what's in it, but be careful."

James Trivette pulled the ribbon of his box and then picked carefully at the tape on the side of the package, undoing the wrapping. He slowly lifted the lid on the box the red foil paper revealed, cautiously turning his face away.

"Well? What is it?" Gage asked.

Trivette pulled a regulation NFL football from the box.

"Oh my," he breathed. "Autographed by Terry Bradshaw and Roger Staubach!" He pulled an official-looking certificate from the box.

"This is an official Super Bowl XIII game ball! And it's autographed by Bradshaw and Staubach!" Trivette was nearly breathless with excitement as he turned the ball over and over in his hands.

"Guys! You didn't have to do this, but, aw, man! I am so happy you did!" he looked around at the small group of friends, beaming.

The rest of the group exchanged puzzled looks.

"But we didn't do it," Sydney said, "at least, I know I didn't."

"I wasn't in on it," Gage added.

"It wasn't us, either," Alex spoke up. "Was it, Walker?" Her husband shrugged and shook his head no.

"Well, who did this?" Jimmy Trivette mused. "It had to have been somebody who knows me, and knows me really well."

"Erika maybe?" Sydney asked. Jimmy's fiancée, Erika Carter was out of town visiting her father.

"No." Trivette replied. "She doesn't know the story behind this," he held up the ball, "because I never told her. She wouldn't know the meaning this would have for me."

Trivette paused to collect his thoughts, passing the ball from hand to hand. He looked at the signatures scrawled in black ink on the brown leather and then continued.

"I grew up in the projects in Baltimore. It was just my mom raising my brother Simon and me. It was a tough life there. When you grow up in the projects, you don't expect to have much of a future. You just expect to live there all your life. In 1979, it was the Super Bowl between the Steelers and the Cowboys. One of the greatest pairings ever. And every single day we kids would play football out in the street and we'd fight over who'd get to be Terry Bradshaw and who'd get to be Roger Staubach. Playing ball out there in the street made me decide I wanted to get out of the projects. I wanted to play in the NFL. I worked so hard and when I got that acceptance letter from Penn State it was the biggest deal of my life. I was going somewhere. And then I got drafted by the Cowboys. The Dallas Cowboys, guys. It was a dream come true. All because when I was a kid, a kid who had nothing back there in the projects, I watched a Super Bowl with these guys," Trivette held up the football like a trophy, "These guys. And they inspired me to go make something out of my life and get out of the projects."

The group of friends sat in silence, awed by what they had just heard. Gage was the first one to finally speak.

"Wow," he breathed. "That's amazing."

"I never knew that about you," Sydney added. "I mean, I knew you played for the Cowboys, but I didn't know how you got there. That's such an inspiration."

"It is," Alex chimed. "I don't think any of us knew that story. Unless Walker did." She glanced up at her husband.

"No. I can't say I knew all that myself, either," Walker replied.

"Well, that's odd, then," Trivette mused as he rubbed a fingertip over one of the autographs on the football. "Somebody had to have known the meaning behind this and how much it meant to me." He sat in silence for a few minutes, wondering who else might have known about his story.

"It doesn't matter," he finally spoke. "It's Christmas and it's the thought that counts, right? And it's a great gift. Whoever it's from, I love it. Thank you."

Gage pushed a large square box in front of Alex.

"I believe that is yours," he pointed out.

* * *

Alex unwrapped the package to reveal a large, plain brown box. She opened the box and peeled away several layers of packing material and let out a loud gasp.

"Walker! It's beautiful! How did you know?" Alex had to stand up to pull a light tan saddle adorned with hand-painted pink roses and silver hardware out of the sturdy cardboard box.

"Oh, my goodness!" Sydney exclaimed. "That is the most beautiful saddle I've ever seen!"

"I was just a little girl the first time I saw this saddle," Alex began. "I was taking riding lessons at a stable near our house. Princess, she was the horse I was learning to ride on. She was just the sweetest, gentlest animal. Anyways, I needed a pair of boots, and there was a tack shop just out the road from the stables, so Mom took me in to get me a pair and that's where I saw this saddle. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. Of course, all I wanted for Christmas that year was a horse of my own and this saddle to go with it. But I didn't get either one," Alex shook her head, smiling sadly.

"What happened?" Gage asked

"You all know my dad was an alcoholic. Things were really bad that year and Mom had had enough. She had tried so hard for so long with him, and she'd finally had all she could take. She left him. Took me with her and that was the end of riding lessons and any chance I had of getting my own horse or needing a beautiful saddle with pink roses. It was a tough year and a really sad Christmas, not having both my parents there together." Alex picked up a napkin from the table and dabbed at her eyes.

After she regained her composure, she spoke again, "You know, I was just wondering about those stables and that tack shop the other day. I wonder if they're still there. Lone Pine Stables, that was where I took lessons, and the tack shop, it was just this side of the highway, I think it was called Dutch's. Dutch's Tack and Supply."

"That's not there anymore, is it, Walker?" Trivette asked.

"No?" Alex sounded surprised.

"No, it's not. The tack shop burned down years back and they put a gas station in there not too long ago."

"I had no idea Dutch's burned down. That's a shame. Where did you find the saddle, then?" Alex asked her husband.

"I didn't." Walker replied.

"But…" Alex began, a puzzled look on her face.

"This is the first time I ever saw that saddle. I wish I had known about it," Walker said, a big smile crossing his face, "it sure would have made Christmas shopping for you a lot easier!"

"Walker!" Alex looked around at the group of friends. "I had all but forgotten about this saddle until tonight, so I know I never mentioned it to anyone. So where did this come from?"

"Maybe Santa Claus brought it," Marta chirped as she approached the group with a tray loaded with slices of pie and cups of coffee and cocoa. "I thought you all might like some dessert," Marta smiled as she passed around plates and mugs.

"There's more coffee and cocoa on the bar, and if you need anything else, I'll be back in the kitchen cleaning up," Marta informed the group of friends as she walked away. "And you know, it's okay to still believe in Santa Claus. I still do," she said, giving a knowing smile.

* * *

"Why don't you open yours, Syd?" Gage handed Sydney the red foil-wrapped package with her name neatly written on the tag.

Sydney set her plate down and took the box from her partner. She peeled away the paper and lifted the lid on the box inside, pushing away layers of tissue papers to reveal a doll. She lifted it from its nest of tissue.

Sydney's breath caught in her throat when she held the doll up to look at it. Its long, dark hair and dark eyes looked much like her own and it was dressed in a dark blue top and black pants and boots. A small silver star badge was pinned on its shirt.

"Hey, she looks like you!" Trivette laughed. "She's your mini-me!"

"She does look like you," Alex agreed. "She's so pretty!"

Sydney swiped the back of her hand across her eyes in an effort to stop the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Hey," Gage asked gently, "are you okay?"

"It's just," Sydney paused to take a deep breath before telling her story, "this doll is the reason I'm a Texas Ranger."

She glanced at the puzzled faces around her and went on, "When I was a young girl, we didn't have it so well. My dad had a hard time keeping a job so we moved around a lot. I was always the new kid in school so it was hard to make friends. We ended up moving in with my grandparents. My mom got a job working night shift at the hospital and Dad was pretty much never around so my grandmother is the one who really raised me. All the girls in school had these dolls that were specially made to look like them. A lot of them were blond and blue-eyed and if they did have dark hair, they definitely didn't look like me. I so wanted a doll that looked like me, but even if we could have afforded one, they didn't make them that looked like me anyhow."

Sydney took a long sip of cocoa from her mug and then went on. " _Mi abuelita_ , my grandmother, made a doll for me. She painted the face on it and dressed it up like me. I don't know what she used for the hair, but it even had hair like mine. I was so happy! I couldn't wait to show the other girls my doll, but they laughed when they saw it and they teased me. They were really horrible about it. So, I decided that I didn't want to play with dolls anymore. One day I found some books my mom had in her bag. She used to read on her break at work and she liked crime novels. I started reading them and I was hooked. While the other girls were playing with their dolls that looked like them, I was reading about murderers and dreaming about being a cop when I grew up. And here I am. All because of a doll like this."

"We're glad you're here," Alex told her friend. "And Gage, that was a very thoughtful – "

Sydney raised her hand and cut Alex off before she could finish. "No. Gage didn't do this."

"No?" Alex asked, looking over at Gage.

Before he could answer, Sydney continued, "No. The doll isn't from Gage because I never told him that story. I never told anyone that story. Not until tonight."

"You never told anyone?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow as she reached for the doll Sydney held on her lap.

"Never. It was too personal. I was either too embarrassed or too emotional about it."

Alex looked over the doll carefully. She felt goosebumps rise on the back of her neck when she noticed just how closely the doll did resemble Sydney, from her delicate facial features right down to the silver star badge pinned on the doll's shirt. She handed the doll back at Sydney and stood up, shoving the box that held her saddle as far away from her as she could.

"This is too weird. Don't anyone open any more presents. I'm going to talk to the DA tomorrow about launching an investigation. Whoever is behind this is just sick and they need to be brought to justice." Alex grabbed her empty mug from the table and strode across the room to the bar. Walker stood to follow her.

"Why didn't you ever tell me that story," Gage asked quietly, leaning toward Sydney and rubbing his hand down her arm.

"I just couldn't," Sydney replied. "You told me your story about how you grew up and I just couldn't tell you mine. I didn't want you to think I was trying to one-up you or anything. Besides, it's not all that special of a story. There were a lot of kids like me who grew up the way I did."

"But it is special because it's your story. It's what makes you who you are," Gage replied.

Sydney gave Gage half-hearted smile. "Thanks."

"You know you can tell me anything, everything, right?" Gage asked, his ocean-blue eyes filled with concern.

"I know," Sydney answered. "I appreciate that." She gave Gage a half-hearted smile and turned to see what was keeping Alex and Walker at the bar.

* * *

Across the room, Alex stood at the bar, filling her coffee cup. She noticed her hands were shaking, from anger or the shock of the very personal nature of the Christmas gifts from an unknown giver, she wasn't sure. Her husband wrapped his hand around hers, steadying the cup and then taking it, setting it down on the bar.

"Alex, just what do you think the DA is going to do?" Walker asked.

"I don't know. Maybe nothing, Walker, but there's something very strange going on here and I don't like it." Alex's voice was shaking as badly as her hands.

"It is a little strange, but the gifts seem to be harmless."

"Harmless? Walker, did you see that doll? It looks so much like Sydney it's scary. Who would do such a sickening thing?" Alex's voice rose in frustration.

"Sydney doesn't seem too upset by it, and it's not like it's a voodoo doll," Walker reasoned. "Look." Walker pointed across the room toward Sydney who was holding the doll up next to her face while Gage and Trivette laughed.

"Don't try to be funny, Walker. There's something about this I don't like one bit. You heard Sydney. She never told anyone her story about the doll when she was growing up. I don't think I ever told you about the saddle, and I know I never told Sydney or Gage or Trivette about it. And none of us knew Jimmy's story about how that particular Super Bowl made him decide to become an NFL player. So how did all of these very important items from our past suddenly turn up as Christmas presents?"

"I have no idea, Alex. Maybe Marta is right. Maybe it was Santa Claus," Walker gave his wife a big smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Santa Claus. Hmpf." Alex huffed.

From the other end of the bar, Marta smiled, overhearing the exchange between Walker and his wife. She approached the couple, wiping down the bar as she did.

"Alex, there's nothing wrong with believing in a little magic, especially this time of year. We all know there's no real Santa, right? There's no man in a sleigh riding around in the sky with a bunch of reindeer and sliding down chimneys. But what if there is a Santa who is kind and loving and who helps us to believe in the kind and loving spirit in others? That's the Santa I believe in. It's kind of fun to feel like a wonder-filled little kid at Christmas every now and then." Marta gave Alex's hand a squeeze. "It may not have been the Santa Claus in the red suit, but maybe it was the spirit of Santa Claus, the one you can't see," Marta finished, smiling warmly.

"Marta, did you have something to do with these Christmas gifts?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Me? Oh, no, Alex. It wasn't me. I didn't know any of the stories about the presents. It wasn't me, Alex. I swear." Marta gathered up some empty glasses from the bar and returned to the kitchen.

"Come on, guys," Trivette yelled from across the room, "Let's see what Gage and Walker got."

* * *

Gage held a large, flat box, musing at what the contents were while Alex and Walker took their seats again.

"Why don't you just open it and see what's in it?" Sydney ordered. "The suspense is killing all of us!"

Gage tore into the wrapping paper with reckless abandon. Sydney smiled, feeling like she had just caught a glimpse of what her partner would have been like as a very young boy.

"Oh, wow!" Gage exclaimed. "When I was a kid I always wanted –" He stopped and turned his head as his bright blue eyes grew misty.

"Gage," Sydney's voice was soft and soothing. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

Gage nodded without turning his head to look at her. He struggled to get his emotions in check before turning around to face his friends. He slowly peeled the remaining paper off of the gift, revealing a race car set.

"Holy cow," Trivette whooped. "The Jackie Stewart Day and Night Enduro set! I remember that! The cars had headlights that lit up!"

"I was eight years old and all I wanted for Christmas was this race car set. I drove Mom and Dad nuts for weeks carrying on about this thing. I wrote my letter to Santa and sat on Santa's lap and this was the only present I asked for. I thought it was the greatest thing ever back then. And then, just before Christmas, Mom and Dad went to help out with something at the church. They did it every year. And that year," Gage's voice began to crack with emotion and he rested his elbows on the box that held the race car set and buried his face in his hands.

"What happened?" Trivette asked.

"Syd, I can't," Gage mumbled, and Sydney took her partner's cue to finish the story.

"His mom and dad were killed in a car accident. Gage and his sister Julie were sent to foster care. They had a pretty rough time growing up. I don't think they had much of a Christmas, if anything that year." Sydney looked at her partner with sympathy-filled eyes and wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a hug.

"Oh, Gage!" Alex exclaimed. "That's so awful. I'm so sorry!" She stood and crossed the space between them in a few steps, embracing her friend and kissing him on the cheek. "And all this time, you've been playing Santa for the kids at St. Stephen's. That's really admirable given what you've been through yourself," Alex mused.

"That's why I do it," Gage replied, finally getting his emotions in check. "I know what it's like to be one of those kids and for one night, I want them to feel special and loved and like everything is going to be okay. I can't adopt every single one of them, but as Santa, I can make each of them feel special and hopeful at a time of year when it's so easy for them to feel lonely and hopeless. I just wish I could do more."

Sydney Cooke smiled at her partner and felt her own eyes well up with tears as a wave of emotion hit her. She was amazed at how somebody so strong and so capable of taking down the most hardened and dangerous of criminals could have the softest and kindest of hearts.

"You're a good person, Gage," Sydney said softly, giving his hand a quick squeeze. Gage smiled back at her, hoping that the blush that was beginning to creep from under his collar went unnoticed.

"So, what did you get, Walker?" Gage asked, suddenly uncomfortable from all the attention.

"Yeah, Walker. This last present is yours," Trivette handed Walker the last red foil-wrapped package.

* * *

Walker took the package and glanced around at his friends before neatly peeling away the tape on the package's end. The red foil undone, it revealed a brown box that Walker carefully opened.

"Wow," Walker breathed. "I always wondered what happened to this!" He held up a shadowbox that contained an old tintype photograph, a pair of spurs, and a tarnished silver star badge.

"Is that?" Trivette began.

"Hayes Cooper." Walker finished, passing the shadowbox around for his friends to admire. He cleared his throat and told his story.

"After my parents were murdered, my Uncle Ray took me in to live with him on the reservation. I started out going to school there, but Uncle Ray insisted I was going to get the best education possible and he knew in order to do that I had to go to school off the reservation. The closest school was Hayes Cooper Middle School. I had a lot of problems with a few of the kids there, coming from the reservation. They called me half-breed and tried to pick fights with me all the time. I begged Uncle Ray to let me go back to the school on the reservation, but he refused. He told me I'd have to learn how to handle the teasing and the fighting and find the strength to walk through those doors every day if I wanted to be somebody my parents would be proud of. I ended up fighting back and spending a lot of time in the office. This shadowbox was in a display outside the office and it caught my eye. I wanted to know who Hayes Cooper was, so I went to the library one day and found a book about him. I found out that he was a lot like me. From that day forward, something changed for me. I had found my purpose. And just like each of you, I was able to turn my hardship into something good. Every day I would walk into that school and look at this picture and tell myself I was going to be just like Hayes Cooper."

Walker held the shadowbox in both hands and looked at it for a long moment. Finally, he gave a satisfied nod.

"They tore that old school down about twenty years ago and built a new one in its place. I often wondered whatever became of this picture and Hayes Cooper's spurs and badge. I had hoped that somebody saved them; surely, I wasn't the only one they meant something to. I'm glad they were saved. They may be just a little bit of history right here, but they meant an awful lot to a young boy who was really struggling to find his way and his place in the world back then," Walker brushed his hand over the glass covering the old artifacts and smiled.

"Sounds like Hayes Cooper must have had an impact on somebody else's life, too, if they make it a point to keep his picture and his star," Trivette pointed out. "I'd just like to know who our Secret Santa was."

"Me too," Walker replied.

* * *

"This was certainly quite a night," Alex stifled a yawn as she leaned against her husband's shoulder.

"It sure has," Sydney agreed. "With all these strange Christmas presents and finding out that we all had some very similar circumstances in our pasts. Kind of makes you wonder if there really is a Santa Claus."

"Well, the gifts are certainly a mystery. Alex, are you still going to talk to the DA tomorrow?" Walker asked.

"I guess not," Alex replied. "I don't know how I'd even begin to explain this to him, and besides, you were right, Walker, as strange as it was that we each got gifts with such personal stories behind them, it didn't' seem like any of them were intended to be hurtful. I guess we'll just consider it an unsolved mystery and leave it at that."

"You know, as much as I'd love to set this race track up in my living room, I bet some of the boys at St. Stephen's would have a blast playing with this," Gage said, still holding the box with the Day and Night Enduro race track on his lap. "I might take it over to the children's home tomorrow and set it up for the kids and let them have some fun."

"Now that is a really good idea!" Alex exclaimed.

"I'll go with you," Trivette added. "Maybe some of the kids would like to learn how to throw a football. You know, I bet they'd like a tour of the stadium. I'm going to give Jerry's assistant a call tomorrow and see if I can set something up. Maybe they can arrange for some of the team to be there, too."

"That would be so much fun! Don't you dare take a tour of that stadium without me!" Sydney warned teasingly.

* * *

Across the room, Marta hummed a few bars of a Christmas song while she restocked glasses behind the bar. She paused a moment to take in the scene across the room, the friends all laughing and talking in the warm glow of the lights on the Christmas tree. She finished the glasses and moved on a few other tasks, smiling as she went. She was telling the truth when she told Alex that she had nothing to do with those gifts under the tree. She didn't buy them, and she certainly didn't put them there. She did, however, have a pretty good idea of where they came from, not that anyone would have believed her if she told them. In a way, maybe it was Santa. How else could she explain it, she wondered, as she finished wiping down the bar.

Marta looked up at the picture of CD Parker that hung over the bar. Much like Trivette and everyone else, she still felt CD's presence in every corner of the building that CD was so proud of.

"Merry Christmas, old man. You did good tonight. You really did good," Marta said, giving CD a big smile. And for a second, Marta could have sworn that picture of CD winked at her.


End file.
